


Plants and Yellow Vines

by missAwkward (orphan_account)



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Protagonist, Gen, Internal Monologue, Introspection, One-Sided Relationship, POV Female Character, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/missAwkward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short and surprisingly mature retrospection about May and her desire to hold on to a certain something...or someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plants and Yellow Vines

They came and went wherever they so pleased, bending and winding, curling and unwinding. They crept up from the concrete pavement, like tiny hands reaching from beyond the dark soil. Across the windowpanes and down the sills, did they make their green marks. With open mouths and minds, plants seemed to simply drink up the sun's strength, snuggle in its warming comforts. But of course, they needed it to survive.

I truly wish the same could be said about him, about the man that I've worked so hard, tried so endlessly, to keep around my fingers. But such a thing is not possible, I don't think. Vines do not simply pause to allow someone to steal a kiss from their warm embrace. They don't simply allow a person to hold them within their growth. Instead, they grow and come as they please. Steadily at first, then, in one eye's blink, a burst of flowers emerge and all that's left of them is light shadow of what once was, what once strived to be.

Because you see, Johnny is a lot like a vine, like the tiny hands that creep from the concrete. He comes and goes as he pleases, much to my chagrin. He's always here, but never everlasting. But he is such a vine that is always looking for something, always reaching further than his home seems to allow. And somehow, he always manages to escape from nature's grasp, from my grasp, a piece of silk through my fingers.

But you know, I was never the one who planted him, never the one to make solid of his soil. I cannot steal away a vine like that because I'm just a child. Maybe I should make an attempt to snatch the other vine that escaped. Blue vines always seemed to be a little calmer anyway. If only…

That man, that yellow vine, I could never dream of holding. And that was the sad truth now. He would grow where he pleased, stretch along the vast regions of the Earth, scourging for what I assumed was a proper home. Away from the crew, away from me.

He was a vine devoid of thorns, slowly but surely wrapping his way around my heart. And perhaps one day – one day – I will be able to grasp his yellow embrace.


End file.
